


Lone Wolf

by PajamaSecrets



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, M/M, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 10:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14470560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PajamaSecrets/pseuds/PajamaSecrets
Summary: Stiles sits on a grassy riverbank with half of his senior class, listening to an over-energetic man explain the mechanics of canoeing.Spending three days with your classmates in mucky river water and bug-infested campsites was supposed to cultivate stronger friendships and class spirit, but all it really seemed to likely cultivate was mono from all the making out going on.





	Lone Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in 2012 and then promptly forgot about its existence. I think it was for that MTV-sponsored fanfic contest? Anyway, found this in the depths of my docs. 
> 
> This is a lot more tonally consistent with season one of Teen Wolf (back when it actually had some comedy and before they decided to go ultra grimdark on our asses). I stopped watching after the first part of season 4, but Sterek will always have a special place in my heart.

Stiles sits on a grassy riverbank with half of his senior class, listening to an over-energetic man explain the mechanics of canoeing.

 

Spending three days with your classmates in mucky river water and bug-infested campsites was supposed to cultivate stronger friendships and class spirit, but all it really seemed to likely cultivate was mono from all the making out going on. Speaking of making out, Scott was currently doing so with Allison. Jackson and Lydia (sigh) looked like they were on the verge of it as well. Stiles sat between a texting girl and snoring boy, now aware more than ever that he is still painfully single.

 

Stiles would rather sit with Erica, Isaac and Boyd but they've got some weird pack bond thing going that Stiles doesn't really want to intrude upon. They've been really close ever since the whole Alpha Pack Disaster of Sophomore Year, as Stiles likes to call it, and he doesn't want to mess up their mojo or anything.

 

It would be cool if Derek was here. He's actually alright to hang out with. Derek and Stiles still really get on each other's nerves, and Stiles still gets slammed against walls and growled at, but there's an understanding, a connection. Something. But maybe Stiles was reading into it, like he tends to do with everything.

 

"And that's how you work a canoe," The camp staffer _finally_ sounds like he's going to shut up. "You should pick your tent buddies now and unpack your things."

 

The class begins to chatter and pair up.

 

"Don't even think about sharing a tent with your girlfriend or boyfriend!" The teacher chaperone pipes in, wagging her finger at the students.

 

Well played, Miss Teacher Chaperone. There's sighs and moans of protest as the class rearranges itself. Stiles feels a tap on his shoulder. It's Scott, back from trying to pair up with Allison (of course).

 

"You honestly think they'd let that fly?" Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow at Scott. Scott shrugs.

 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Come on, let's pick a tent. I'm hating senior retreat already."

 

***

Stiles has never been fond of camping. The ground is rock-hard and uneven and he wakes up with at least five bug bites. Add Scott's incredibly loud snoring to that equation, and you have one unhappy Stiles.

 

He thinks he may finally be comfortable enough to fall asleep when someone, some _thing_ starts violently unzipping his tent and barges in. Stiles almost screams but the intruder slaps a hand over Stiles' mouth.

 

"Stiles!" the shadow whispers.

 

A very Derek-shaped shadow.

 

Wait— _Derek_? Did some mystical force grant his wish and send Derek here to hang out with him? That would be awesome.

 

And then Derek slaps Stiles upside the head to make him pay attention. Nope, definitely need to rethink this situation.

 

What the heck was Derek doing on their senior field trip? Stiles looks over to Scott for an answer, but Scott's sleeping like a rock (and snoring like an elephant).

 

"What are you doing here?" Stiles whispers harshly.

 

"Your entire class is in danger," Derek hisses.

 

"Would you like to expand on that?"

 

"Get the others," Derek grunts, "We're holding a pack meeting."

 

***

The group ends up gathering at the edge of the campsite, next to the river. Lydia huddles up with Jackson, Scott is glued to Allison, and Erica, Isaac and Boyd kneel close together. Stiles sits by himself, picking at the grass beneath him. Derek explains their situation in a hushed voice, careful not to wake up the horde of sleeping teenagers nearby. It's something about vengeful witch.

 

"You've got to be kidding me," Jackson blurts when Derek finishes talking. "Witches exist?"

 

Stiles laughs under his breath. After the whole "werewolves exist!" thing, nothing really surprises Stiles anymore. So witches are real. Not a big stretch of the imagination. Come on, Jackson himself turned into a giant lizard a couple years ago.

 

"Witches do exist," Derek affirms. "But these days they're very few and far between."

 

Erica butts in. "So what's the issue? We leave the witch alone, she leaves us alone, right?" She reasons.

 

"Not exactly," Derek sighs. "The Hale territory used to be quite expansive; we had control over most of northern California. My ancestors had a border dispute with this witch's coven, and three of her kind ended up dead."

 

Stiles looks at Derek incredulously. "Your _ancestors_? Dude, why does she still care?"

 

"Witches aren't the forgiving type," Derek states.

 

Stiles groans.

 

"Since you are my pack, you're technically an extension of the Hale family," Derek says. "The witch isn't going to pay attention to semantics. You are all in deep water right now."

 

"Can't we just get out of here?" Lydia asks.

 

"That's what I was hoping to arrange," Derek says.

 

Isaac raises a hand. "Senior retreat is a mandatory requirement for graduation," he speaks nervously. "It's in the student handbook."

 

Derek smiles without humor. "As much as I so deeply care about your education, I think staying alive is more important."

 

"What if the witch can already sense our presence?" Boyd points out. "If we leave she could still take out our classmates."

 

Derek takes a deep breath. "You've got a decent point, Boyd."

 

Allison speaks up. "So should we try to find the witch before she finds us?"

 

Derek shakes his head. "We need to lie low, and only take action if she approaches. If she does, we'll use our usual formation. Don't let her complete any spells."

 

They nod in agreement.

 

Stiles is now certain that senior retreat will be horrible.

 

***

In the morning, Stiles and Scott sling their backpacks over their shoulders and head to the middle of the campsite where an array of breakfast food awaits. Stiles sleepily grumbles something to Scott about needing caffeine, moving towards the coffee maker.

 

After obtaining a paper cup of coffee, Stiles turns and bumps into someone. Apologizing, he looks up to see who it is, and nearly pees his pants when an angry Derek stares back at him. Stiles notices that Derek is wearing a camp staff t-shirt (which isn't weird _at all_ ) _._

 

"Derek," Stiles squeaks out. "Did you kill one of the camp staff and take their shirt, or am I missing something here?"

 

"This camp program is run by a local pack," Derek starts.

 

" _What_?"

 

Derek rolls his eyes. "It's easy to tell if a person is a werewolf, even easier if it's a pack. The scent is distinct. I'd say I'm surprised that the others didn't pick up on it, but they're too engrossed in each other to care."

 

"Believe me, I know," Stiles grumbles.

 

"I told this pack about our situation. They say they'll keep a close watch on your classmates," Derek continues.

 

"And leave us to do the dirty work," Stiles concludes.

 

"It's our pack that the witch is after. We _should_ be doing the dirty work.”

 

“Then you better thank me for bringing my emergency mountain ash. I've only got a jar of it,” Stiles grumbles, "and I don't even know if it works against freaking witches."

 

"Let's hope it does," Derek says. "We're setting out first to keep a lookout for anything suspicious."

 

"Alright. Cool."

 

"As in, now."

 

"Oh, _we_? As in you-and-I we?"

 

Derek nods with his patented _Stop Being an Idiot, Stiles_ look.

 

Canoeing with Derek? Stiles was planning to canoe with Scott.

 

"Ok," he says. "But I get to sit in front."

 

***

 

The sun is setting as Derek and Stiles arrive at the new campsite. Even though they set out first, they're one of the last canoes to pull up to shore.

 

Canoeing with Derek for five hours was an intensely awkward experience.

 

They got into a fight after taking an hour-long detour to find a what ended up being a duck (Derek "swore something smelled funny"), which caused Derek to slam his fist to make a point which _capsized the boat._ Stiles was soaking wet from head to toe for the rest of the day and not very happy with his life.

 

A big campfire roars in the middle of the wet, grassy campsite, shaded by tall redwood trees. Stiles' classmates laugh and relax by the fire, tossing in wood chips when the flames get low. Stiles' eyes settle on Scott and Allison, leaning into each other, simply enjoying one another's presence. Those two really do love each other. They've been through way more than any teenage couple should have to experience.

 

There's also Lydia and Jackson. They're curled up by the campfire, holding hands. Stiles' stomach aches every time he looks at her now. He's tried his best to move on, he really has, but it still hurts. He sighs, willing himself to look away.

 

Stiles wanders over to the edge of the campsite, where the river lies. He notices out of his peripheral vision that someone is walking towards him. He doesn't turn, eyes set on watching the little fish that are swimming in the river.

 

"Good job today," a voice says. It's Derek.

 

"You too," Stiles responds. "Thanks for dunking us in the river."

 

Was Derek smiling?

 

"That was your fault," Derek refutes.

 

"It totally wasn't." Stiles nearly smiles back.

 

Awkward silence again. Great. Stiles was the master of surviving awkward silences. He's done it since middle school.

 

Derek looks at the campfire, then at Stiles. "Why aren't you with the pack?" he asks softly.

 

Stiles snaps. "Because _I'm not pack_ ," he says, "I'm just a kid who got dragged into this because my best friend, whom I'm not even sure is my best friend anymore, got _turned into a werewolf_ our sophomore year, thanks to you. I do your research, and sometimes I can do fancy little tricks with the ashes of a _shrub_. But I'm human. I'm human, and I can't do anything. I'm _nothing._ "

 

Derek's eyes flash red. "Don't you _ever_ say that again," he growls. "You are pack. You have always been pack. Just because you are human does not mean you're less of a pack member. Grow up, Stiles."

 

Derek turns and leaves.

 

Stiles stays, watching the fish swim in the river.

 

***

"So," Scott says when Stiles enters their tent later that night.

 

"Yes?" Stiles asks, crawling into his sleeping bag.

 

Scott turns over to face Stiles. "Derek," Scott says, a knowing smirk playing across his lips.

 

"Oh my god, are you really bringing this up _now_?"

 

Scott chuckles. "Dude, we've been able to smell it on you two for a while now," he says, "The… attraction."

 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters, then pauses. "Wait, what did you say? You can smell it on _him_?"

 

Scott grins. "Yeah, man. We all can."

 

Stiles' face heats up. "Are you just lying to make me feel better, because last time you did a sniff-check on someone for me _you_ ended up making out with them," he accuses.

 

Scott looks appalled. "That was years ago!"

 

"So you're telling the truth?" Stiles whispers.

 

"Cross my heart," Scott promises. Stiles breaks out into a smile.

 

"Thanks, man," he says.

 

The conversation ends, then, and Stiles rolls over with a mumbled good-night to Scott.

 

After a few minutes, Scott speaks again.

 

"I just want you to be happy," he says. "Stop being so down on yourself."

 

Scott says good-night then, and Stiles tries to sleep.

 

***

Stiles wakes up in the middle of the night. There's a rustling sound coming from outside.

 

He sinks further into his sleeping bag and tries to sleep, but he can't. He's on edge, straining his ears to listen for any creepy witches on the loose, but nothing happens. He curls into a ball and tries not to freak out.

 

He ends up freaking out anyway, digging out his mountain ash jar and opening it with shaking hands. He sticks a handful in his pocket in case any witches decide to abduct him in the middle of the night.

 

***

Stiles awakes, squinting his eyes at the glare of the sun. That's weird, he doesn't remember falling asleep… He lifts a hand to shield his eyes, but something holds him down.

 

His eyes snap open to see he's tied against a tree. His sleeping bag is gone, his tent is gone, _Scott is gone._ Stiles struggles to break free to no avail, beginning to panic.

 

He wiggles around a bit and manages to get his thumb in his pocket, relieved to know the ash is still there. He takes a deep breath to ground himself. Alright. So the witch got him. Cool. But he has his mountain ash, and he can handle this. He summons up his courage and does something incredibly stupid and potentially life-threatening.

 

"Hey witch lady!" Stiles calls out.

 

Nothing. Stiles tries again.

 

"Where's the black cat? Maybe he took your broom out for a spin," Stiles taunts.

 

There's an answering hiss. Stiles flinches. He sees a woman approaching through the trees. She's dressed in some kind of cloak, and if that's not weird enough, she turns up her lip in a snarl to reveal a row of disgustingly rotten teeth.

 

"He has not come to find you, why is that?" she growls, pointing at Stiles.

 

"Who?" Stiles plays dumb. _Imagine,_ he reminds himself. _Imagine the circle._

 

"The Hale-child," the witch spits, "Blood of the one who took my sisters."

 

"You know, ma’am, you should go see a dentist. Pretty sure that’s not normal—"

 

" _HUSH!_ " she screams, "Answer my question!"

 

"What question?" Stiles asks innocently. _Imagine,_ Stiles grits his teeth, _Come on, stupid freaking mountain ash—_

 

Suddenly, the witch freezes in place. "The Spark," she says, surprised. "I should have known."

 

Stiles lets out a breath he'd been holding. "Phew. Glad that worked," he says shakily. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm—"

 

The witch steps easily outside of the circle of mountain ash and smiles with her creepy teeth. Stiles is quickly becoming terrified.

 

"How," Stiles stutters, "How did you do that?"

 

"Mountain-ash is old magic," the witch says. "Yet the magic of witches is older, more powerful than that of a naïve boy like you. _Now tell me where Derek Hale is._ "

 

Stiles' heartbeat is through the roof, and a drop of sweat falls into his eyes. "I honestly don't know where he is," Stiles repeats. "And even if I _did_ know where he is, I wouldn't tell you, because we're pack and pack sticks together. So do whatever you want to me, but I'm not saying a word."

 

The witch lets out an ungodly wail. Stiles is ripped from his bonds, hurling backwards into the river.

 

 _Well, that went_ _okay_ _,_ Stiles thinks as he treads water.

 

That's until he notices the giant whirlpool heading straight for him.

 

Stiles tries to swim to shore, but the current drags him away. Frantically, he moves his arms around, to hold onto a something, anything, but the will of the water is too strong. The witch cackles, and suddenly Stiles is being pulled down, down, down…

 

***

The next thing Stiles notices is that he's on somewhat-solid land, being kissed by Derek.

 

Alright, so he's dead, and this is the afterlife. Stiles can deal with that.

 

Derek is also pinching Stiles' nose and holding his head at a weird angle, which is not what Stiles imagined kissing Derek would be like, but hey, he'll take what he can get.

 

But then Derek is pulling away and pounding on his chest, and Stiles can hear Scott's voice yelling out something frantically. Stiles can't understand what Scott is saying, there's water in his ears, and Stiles soon finds out there is water in his lungs as well because he's coughing it up everywhere. His head is dizzy, he can't think straight, and everything _hurts._

 

Slowly, very slowly, the world becomes less blurry. He can see Scott now, who's sprinting towards him.

 

"Stiles!" Scott gasps in relief, kneeling down next to Derek. "Are you okay?"

 

Stiles groans. Besides the aching _everything_ and the fact that a witch almost killed him, it's dawning on him that his first kiss was administered by a werewolf via CPR. Fantastic.

 

"Considering I nearly drowned? Peachy," Stiles rasps out, lifting his upper body off the ground. His head spins and he careens backward, nearly hitting his head on a rock in the process, but Derek is quick to hold Stiles steady.

 

"Maybe we should carry you back to camp," Scott points out. Derek nods in agreement.

 

Despite Stiles' protests, Derek lifts Stiles off the ground and holds him close to his chest. Stiles mashes his face into Derek's shoulder, starting to feel humiliated about this entire event. Scott hovers close behind, and the three begin to walk back to camp.

 

Wait.

 

"What happened to the witch?" Stiles asks, clutching Derek's t-shirt.

 

"Taken care of," Derek states, not expanding further on the subject.

 

Stiles relaxes. "Good. I'm glad. She had some serious dental hygiene issues." He pauses. "I mean, witches? Really? Had you thought to tell us about those?"

 

"It had crossed my mind," Derek remarks.

 

"Sourwolf," Stiles mutters. Derek laughs, the sound reverberating through Stiles.

 

"Thanks for ruining my first kiss, by the way," Stiles mutters.

 

Derek snorts. "I don't think resuscitating you counts as a kiss."

 

"It totally does," Stiles groans. "There was lip-to-lip contact, dude."

 

"You'll get a real kiss one of these days," Derek says.

 

"Hello! Guys? I'm right here," Scott exclaims.

 

Stiles' face breaks out into a smile.

 

Maybe it wasn't going to be such a horrible field trip after all.


End file.
